


Smooth & Salty

by Starbuck7



Series: Voltron Multiship Madness [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Established Relationship, F/M, Gamers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Genderfluid Pidge | Katie Holt, German-American Pidge not Italian just go with it, Holt is a German name anyway so..., Lance (Voltron) is a Dork, Like no pronouns at all, M/M, No Pronouns for Pidge, Other, POV Pidge | Katie Holt, Pansexual Lance (Voltron), Salty Pidge, datemates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 12:16:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbuck7/pseuds/Starbuck7
Summary: “Pidge!!!” Lance cried, speeding forward past the door and skidding to a stop a few feet short of the blue-gray sofa. “I came up with relationship mashup names for us."Pidge blinked, brow knitting in consternation. “You came up with what?”“Relationship mashup names,” Lance pressed, raising his hands palms upward and leaning in close. “You know, like, Brangelina? Kimye? Bennifer?” His eyebrows quirked suavely, “Zanessa?”“But I don’twanta relationship mashup name,” Pidge replied, restarting the game once more.“But youdowant to sit there ripping the names I picked to shreds.” The corners of Pidge’s lips twitched, and Lance smirked knowingly.





	Smooth & Salty

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so here's the deal: my non-binary friend told me they didn't like Pance as a pairing, that it wasn't done well, but it was because the pairing was fundamentally flawed. I bet them I could write a Pance fic that was not only done well--with a healthy relationship and a not over-sexualized and feminine Pidge--but a fic that they would actually _like_. 
> 
> So here it is! Oh boy, now I'm worried I overhyped that. I reeeeeeally hope you enjoy my little ficlet....

Lance crashed through the door, its spherical handle promptly bouncing off the pad on the wall with a metallic thud and hurtling back at the tan boy in the doorframe, who caught it deftly with his right hand without even a glance. Pidge added the wall stop after a particularly weighty slam a few months back--when Lance finally punched through the wall--and had already replaced it once since. 

“Pidge!!!” he cried, speeding forward past the door and skidding to a stop a few feet short of the blue-gray sofa. 

“Oh, come right in, Lance. No, no, I insist,” Pidge snarked from the comfort of the couch, pausing Tales of Symphonia, neck spinning to face the door. “No need to knock. Or ring the doorbell. Or wait for an answer. Or not slam the door for the thousandth time.”

“This is _waaaay_ too important _not_ to slam the door,” Lance insisted, swinging back to set the door gently in its hinges. 

“I _knew_ you were doing it for effect!” exclaimed Pidge, an accusatory finger flicking in his direction.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lance said smoothly, crossing in front of the couch and settling in to Pidge’s left. “So? Don’t you want to know why I needed to slam open the door?”

Pidge sighed vocally, “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s so important you had to slam my door? Again?”

“I came up with relationship mashup names for us,” beamed Lance, grin spreading lopsidedly across his features. Pidge blinked, brow knitting in consternation.

“You came up with what?”

“Relationship mashup names,” Lance pressed, raising his hands palms upward and leaning in close. “You know, like, Brangelina? Kimye? Bennifer?” His eyebrows quirked suavely, “ _Zanessa?_ ” 

Pidge took another breath, then wordlessly turned back to the television and started the game once more, eery music growing louder and filling both their ears as Lance sputtered in response. 

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun,” Lance insisted, nudging into Pidge’s shoulder with his own repeatedly, and the honey-haired youth pursed lips together to keep from smiling in response.

“You’re destroying my wall stop for literally nothing. You’re paying for the next one.”

“I bet you end up liking at least one. I have a whole list.”

“But I don’t _want_ a relationship mashup name.”

“But you _do_ want to sit there ripping the names I picked to shreds.” The game paused, and the corners of Pidge’s lips twitched. Lance smirked knowingly, but Pidge held the smile at bay. 

“Only because I feel sorry for you,” Pidge insisted, setting the controller down to one side and smirking mischievously back at Lance, bright eyes beaming. So Lance wanted to list off some dumb relationship names. Pidge was just being a good datemate, that’s all. Listening to Lance was obligatory.

“You know you love it,” Lance replied, kicking off his shoes and turning on the sofa, pulling his right leg up to sit on his foot and grinning from ear to ear. As almost an afterthought, he stuffed a hand in his left jean pocket and pulled out a note, carefully unfolding it. Pidge tried to peek over the top, but Lance hoisted it in the air out of arm’s reach. Pidge glared, waving a short arm just out of reach of the paper with a frown, but Lance flashed a cheeseball grin. Dropping the arm, Pidge shrugged. “First up--Pidgance.”

“What?” an incredulous Pidge replied, disbelief creasing a caramel brow. “ _Pidgance_?”

“Of course. Pidge plus Lance equals Pidgance.”

“ _Pidgance_ , though.” 

“Don’t wear it out.”

“Officially vetoed,” said Pidge, slicing a hand across a thin throat, “too… clunky. Or like I bought an ant farm and gave it the worst name imaginable.”

“Fine, I’ve got more,” Lance said, quirking his neck along with an eyebrow in anticipation, “Lidge.”

“Bleh,” Pidge groaned out, tongue hanging out, and nose scrunching up in disgust.

“Lance and Pidge,” he protested, left hand chopping downward to accent his words.

“Lll,” Pidge began, but the L quickly slipped into the back of Pidge’s throat, and a repetitive gagging sound prompted Lance to move on.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he replied, nodding and consulting his list.

“Just horrible.” Pidge shivered dramatically. “Please tell me they’re not all that cringey.”

“Oh, I’m gonna find one you love, just you wait,” Lance declared defiantly to the air. “What about Gunderance?”

“Okay, that one’s just ridiculous,” Pidge snorted, leaning into Lance and shoving him with a shoulder, but with tawny eyes peering safely away where Lance couldn’t catch them. Pidge left the shoulder there; his skin was always warm and the heating wasn’t running. “Kinda sounds like I’m watching a mecha anime.”

“Respectable,” Lance nodded contemplatively, eyes flicking toward their joined shoulders with a half-smile before looking back up. “You love mecha anime, though.”

“I do,” Pidge admitted with a nod.

“But you don’t love Gunderance?” Lance quirked an eyebrow, and Pidge’s neck leaned forward with a nod and squinted eyes, bringing them barely a breath apart. Lance locked eyes with Pidge breathlessly.

“I think we should keep looking,” whispered Pidge, pulling away. Lance chuckled.

“Alright, going for some wildcards, then. This one would definitely be limited use, but how about Lankat?”

Pidge frowned, pulling away from Lance’s shoulder abruptly. “I don’t go by Katie, Lance,” Pidge growled, and then saw Lance’s face fall, gaze flicking to the space where their joined arms broke and Pidge felt a knot spreading from abdomen to throat in white hot pressure. It wasn’t fair--Pidge used to tell Lance that Katie wasn’t such a bad name when Pidge felt more feminine, even if Pidge was still preferable. But that was before people started using it against Pidge at school and it was demoralizing. Not that Lance knew... And that pure reflex, an ingrained response to a name that didn’t fit the person Pidge was anymore, had come out and slapped unsuspecting Lance in the face. 

“I know. I know that,” Lance replied, cobalt eyes dropping dejectedly, his lips pressing tightly into a thin line and a frown creasing his face unnaturally. “I’m sorry, I meant only when you were feeling… That was stupid. The whole list is stupid. I just threw everything together I could think of. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been an idiot like that. I don’t ever want to make this harder on you. Let’s just stop.” Lance crumpled the paper and stuffed it back in his pocket unceremoniously. Turning away with a furrowed brow and a bit lip, Lance settled back into the couch to face the pause screen, characters profiles waiting for a command, face utterly crestfallen.

Pidge frowned, and wished immediately to take it back. Pidge knew better than anyone that he meant the name only for when Pidge was feeling feminine. No one was more supportive of Pidge than Lance. Most people knew now, but somehow only Lance managed to always use the correct pronouns, sometimes without even having to ask. He could just… _tell_. Unfortunately, Pidge also knew Lance was terribly insecure underneath all that fake swagger, and he lived his life one wrong word away from collapsing in on himself. Was there a manual on how to tell your significant other that you knew they didn’t really mean to misgender you?

“Y’know… Lankat does have kind of a superhero vibe,” Pidge admitted, purposefully locking eyes with Lance and giving him a smirk. _Man, I suck at this._ Hopefully Lance would get the message. 

It took a moment, but Lance’s baby blues slowly broke contact with the monitor that served as a television and he smiled back.

“Right?” Lance said, gently slapping the back of his hand against Pidge’s shoulder. And that was the great thing about Lance--despite his insecurities, it didn’t take much to turn him into a smiley ball of energy and swagger. At least for now. He stuck his hand in his pocket and tentatively removed the paper, flattening it with his hand. “Well, if you like that one, I know you’ll like Saltwater.”

“Saltwater?” Pidge asked, face contorted in utter confusion.

“Because you’re hella salty and I’m, ya know, smooooooth like the water.” Lance slid his right hand through the air to accentuate his words. Pidge snorted. Lance finally sounded like himself again. Lance’s eyes brightened at the sound and he pointed a finger a hair’s breadth from Pidge’s nose. “Aha! I knew you’d enjoy this.”

“I’m just trying to slap you with my mind,” Pidge insisted with a smirk, knocking the finger away. “That slipped out from the effort.”

“Sure, sure, of course,” Lance nodded, pursing his lips thoughtfully and shifting on the sofa until his long leg pressed against Pidge’s thigh and Pidge relaxed into the warmth and easiness of the contact. “How about a combo of popular dishes from our respective patronymic homelands?” 

“I’m intrigued,” admitted Pidge with a squint, “mostly by the word ‘patronymic’.”

“You like that?” Lance said, wiggling his eyebrows, and Pidge chuckled. “I looked it up and practiced.”

“I figured.”

“Rude!” replied a scandalized Lance. 

“You literally just told me you looked it up.”

“Well, it’s rude to assume I didn’t know already that it meant a paternal name.”

“Thanks, Oxford Dictionary.” Pidge’s head rolled toward him, eyes tossing Lance a level stare, “English is your second language. Most native speakers don’t even know that.”

“Which makes me extra cool and special, right?”

“Yes, Lance,” Pidge replied, reaching a right hand to pat his head condescendingly, “you’re extra cool and special.”

“Alright, now bear with me--a combination of the foods from the _patronymic homelands_ of the Holt and Serrano clans--Bratwurst Vieja,” he announced with a grin, arms spread wide in a showy manner. Hearing no response, he continued, “because of Germany and Cuba.”

Pidge shook honey locks with an irritated stare, “Call us that and I will just _have_ to murder you in your sleep.”

“Fine, I can take a hint. Now, this is the last one on my list, but I think you’ll appreciate it. Our patronymic homelands--”

“You really like using that word, huh?”

“I do, yeah--give us one final gem,” he held a hand up to indicate Pidge first and then himself, “Axis, and Allies.”

Pidge couldn’t help it, that one was pretty good. A smirk tweaked at the edges of Pidge’ face and Lance beamed in response. 

“I’ll give you that one,” Pidge said, holding up a hand that Lance gratefully slapped. “But it’s a little vague, don’t you think?”

“Too cerebral, huh?” Lance said, peering over the paper once more with a disappointed look, “Well, that’s my whole list. I could have _sworn_ you’d go for Saltwater. That one is so good!”

“Eh,” Pidge scoffed, “it’s alright.”

“Oh, there was one more! There was one more!” Lance shouted, bouncing up and down on the couch, and Pidge had to grab both his shoulders to get him to settle down. “I came up with it on the way over. Pance!!!”

“Pants?” Pidge asked, glancing down at two pairs of legs tangled between them.. 

“Pidge and Lance--Pance,” Lance confirmed, shooting double finger guns in Pidge’s direction, “because we _both_ wear the pants in this relationship.” Pidge snorted, breaking into a full chuckle, then knocked a head to one side to consider before Lance continued, “Well, _most_ of the time.”

“Ew. Gross,” Pidge scoffed, shoving his shoulders away. “You just ruined it.”

“No, no, I meant,” Lance began frantically, fingers picking at his cuticles and eyes darting around Pidge’s face rather than look at it, “because sometimes you like to wear skirts and stuff.”

“Oh.” A tiny heat blossomed somewhere in Pidge’s chest.

“Yeah,” Lance continued, eyes flicking to the ceiling. “And I mean, we do mostly wear pants, but I wanted it to be open if you’re feeling more feminine, so… ‘most of the time’.” A smile spread out across Pidge’s face, fingers raising to re-adjust a pair of spectacles anime-style while Lance continued blabbering. “Damn it, and that was a really good line, too! I can’t believe I wasted it on such an awful moment.”

Listening to Lance’s blather, Pidge took a moment of self-reflection to wonder how the pair of them had gotten here, given how rocky a start they’d had. God, it was unbelievable, but Pidge was actually _falling_ for this goofball. Leaning in toward the cinnamon-haired boy, Pidge’s neck stretched forward, passing to Lance’s right, lips pressing lightly against the smooth skin of the tan boy’s cheek. Pulling away, Pidge could see Lance’s wide eyes, pupils fully blown until he gradually blinked and breathed himself back to the moment. He brought a hand up slowly to brush against his now rosy cheek.

“W-what was that for?” Lance asked in a voice that barely cracked above a whisper.

“That was for meaning it the other way,” Pidge said with a smile, and resettled into Lance’s side, legs now intertwined. “Now are we playing Tactics or what?”

“Why do you always get to choose?”

“Please, you know you love it,” Pidge parroted back his own words.

“I do,” he said, blushing when he locked eyes with Pidge one more. It would be a lie to say Pidge didn't enjoy seeing Lance so hot and bothered. “So, I should probably pull out the Playstation, right?” he coughed out.

“In a minute,” Pidge replied, dropping a head on Lance’s shoulder with a sigh. He tensed for a moment--Pidge could swear even the skin of his neck went red--before relaxing and reaching an arm around to drop on Pidge’s shoulder. 

“So you really didn’t like any of the names, huh?” he asked in what Pidge was sure Lance _thought_ was a casual voice, but there was a tension in it, and the redness in his neck had only deepened. It was gratifying to know Pidge could make him this nervous barely even trying. It was gonna be hilarious when Pidge started putting in some _real_ effort.

“Pance was kinda funny,” Pidge replied, reaching out for the controller but barely grasping it with the pad of one finger, “and Saltwater is actually starting to grow on me.” 

“So you won’t kill me if I call us Saltwater or Pance?”

“Mmm…. Sure.”

“I think I need a guarantee,” Lance said, lifting his hand to let Pidge stretch one tiny arm a few inches farther. “Preferably in writing.”

“You have an official Get Out of Death Free card if you stick with those two. The others may result in your summary execution.” Pidge yanked the controller fully from the arm of the couch triumphantly, and Lance readjusted his own arm, fingers brushing over the wide stripes on the shoulder of Pidge’s sweater.

“That’s fair.” 

“But thanks for the dumb mashup list,” Pidge said, “it was pretty fun.”

Dropping the controller on their shared lap, Pidge continued Tales once more, walking in search of a save point so they could start Tactics together. But if there were a few critters to fight along the way, that was okay with Pidge. For these blissful seconds, everything in Pidge’s life was perfect. Snuggling into Lance’s side, Pidge ‘accidentally’ took a wrong turn in the forest to buy a few moments more in the serenity of their datemate cuddle pile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!! I didn't want to spoil the surprise, but my non-binary friend did love it, thought they're not ready to go out and read all the Pance/Pidgeance AO3 has to offer. 
> 
> Anyway, you may not have noticed, but I decided to go with ZERO pronouns for Pidge, because sometimes I find 'they' confusing when people are doing things in groups, and other times it's just easier to say someone's name. So I was careful in the wording. I hope it read smoothly!
> 
> Finally, I was so inspired by writing this little drabble-turned-ficlet (I am not brief enough to write drabbles for some reason...) I will eventually follow it up with a full-length fic. I've got TONS of other stuff in the works, though, so hopefully this will tide you over for a while! 
> 
> Oh! And Pidge was walking through the Gaoracchia Forest.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta GlassAlice! [Follow GlassAlice on Tumblr!](http://yuzuling.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And [stalk me on Tumblr, too!](http://starbuck-7.tumblr.com/) Because I love you guys!!!


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